Bond is back but for Daniel Craig it's the last one.

 Bond is back but for Daniel Craig it's the last one.

Everybody has heard of James Bond. In fact if you haven't heard of Bond you must have missed the 1960s. Bond has spanned the generations, lasted the pace, an enduring, all action hero who's so miraculously survived countless attempts on his life that if he'd been a cat he'd have emerged completely unscathed without a scratch on him. 

Yesterday the latest instalment in the Bond canon No Time to Die exploded onto our cinema screens and, as usual, the itinerary was much the same as it's always been.  There was blood, guts, not quite as many as explosions but enough to blow up buildings, humans, and inanimate objects just minding their own business. There were gadgets that were simply designed to last five seconds before one huge conflagration that went bang immediately on impact. There were huge rocket attacks, fire and smoke and spellbinding punch ups that some of us could almost feel and we were just watching it on the silver screen. 

Now for those who remember the daredevil exploits of the now sadly late Roger Moore and Sean Connery in previous Bond incarnations, this was perhaps predictable fare. No Time to Die was never  likely to be any departure from the tried and tested Bond formula and format. Bond falls deeply in love with any girl he meets, throwing his arms passionately into her arms, making love to them wherever and whenever the mood takes him and then leaving them as if they were just notches on his bedpost. Bond does conquests in the way that the Normans became celebrated for. 

James Bond of course is the archetypal secret service agent, an impeccably suited and booted, glamorous killing machine, a bold, adventurous, no nonsense, ruthless, uncompromising warrior, an ageless, timeless saviour of the universe where evil threatens to get the better of good. Essentially Bond is fearless, outrageously intrepid, taking his life in his hands and then battering the nasty villains to a pulp and death. 

In the days of Connery and Moore, Bond was very much the swashbuckling stud, aggressive, brave, asking questions later. Miss Moneypenny was the woman who sanctioned those bloodthirsty assignments, pleading with Bond to be careful and not to break anything that couldn't be fixed. Then there were the gambling casinos, the shaken but not stirred Martini or perhaps a scotch or two for good measure. Moore was always available for the humorous quip, the funny one liner that always had us in stitches. Connery was all dour, business like pragmatism, there to finish off the baddies.

But No Time to Die will be Daniel Craig's last Bond film and the reception for the film is bound to be favourable. Regrettably though battle fatigue feels as though it may be setting in for the Bond character. There are only so many bust ups, explosions, murders and cliff hanging scenes that simply leave you transfixed. There can only be so many times when Bond just throws his body into vast metallic objects, crashing and smashing into walls with remarkable persistence and then being peppered with bullets and bombs while desperately hanging on for dear life.

Here Safin, a vengeful and evil character, is Bond's sworn enemy, a vile, vicious, pernicious man, Bond's nemesis and hostile adversary. When Safin becomes the central target for the boo boys, Bond hurls himself into conflict. Having captured the girl who had pulled on Bond's heart strings, the woman and her toddler daughter are captured by Safin. For the rest of the film Bond does his utmost to seek revenge on the old Blofeld for past misdemeanours. 

There were some eye catching and beguilingly thrilling performances from Rory Kinnear, son of the late comedy actor Roy Kinnear as the modest and upper crust Bill Tanner, Rami Malek, whose sensational Freddie Mercury in Bohemian Rhapsody sent him soaring to star status. Malek was the sneering, sinister, oddly pockmarked face of Safin, not the kind of man you'd want to meet on a dark night in any particular location. 

No Time to Die went through the customary motions of whispered discussions and pompous lecturing from Ralph Fiennes as the prim and puritanical M who just tells Bond what to do it and then make sure that he doesn't foul up into the bargain. There follows another sequence of never ending gunfire shots that seemed to wipe out whole masses of humanity. More and more of the good guys are murdered while Safin appears to be indestructible.

It is at this point that you may have to conclude this film critique since any further descriptions of the rest of the film may ruin your enjoyment of No Time to Die. To be perfectly honest although No Time to Die was both gripping and enthralling in the right places and at the right time, the whole Ian Fleming back catalogue of Bond novels may be past their sell by date. This was rather like playing your favourite piece of vinyl record over and over again only to find that the stylus is full of dust.

Now most of us know by now that No Time to Die was scheduled to be released in the cinemas at roughly that moment when the coronavirus lockdown scuppered any plans. Sadly though that long 18 month wait for the dashing new Bond film may have fizzled out into a flat anti-climax. But Bond will always be James Bond and the age of masculinity is well and truly alive.